


Mercy

by LittleDarkling



Category: CSI: NY
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-01
Updated: 2011-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-20 22:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleDarkling/pseuds/LittleDarkling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: Characters not mine. No infringement intended</p>
    </blockquote>





	Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters not mine. No infringement intended

Don almost ends up flat on his back when Danny shoves him inside. His belt is half out of its loops and the top button on his jeans is undone. This, Danny managed between little bites and kisses to his neck and shoulder as Don struggled to unlock the door. Danny's horny and maybe a little bit drunk, which pretty much means no inhibitions at all. So he completely disregarded the fact that they're in the hallway and Miss O'Hallan across the hall likes to peek her head out and say 'hi' when she hears Don get home. Don managed to say as much through shuddery breaths as Danny palmed his hardening cock through the rough denim of his jeans. See, his cock doesn't seem to give a shit whether he gets busted for indecent exposure or causes Miss O'Hallan to keel over of a heart attack. The only thing it cares about is Danny. Danny's hips against his, Danny's breath shivering across his skin, the pressure of Danny's arousal felt through two layers of cursed fabric pushing against his ass, Danny's cupid's bow mouth whispering all manner of filth in his ear. He finally managed to get the damn door open and even before he could find his bearings he was unceremoniously (and none-too-gently) shoved through the door. Danny's hand fists in his shirt, not letting him go as he slams the door shut and locks it with his free hand. This done, he turns his full attention back to his tall, ridiculously handsome, blue-eyed homicide dick. Cause fuck-all if Don isn't the hottest thing this side of the East River. They don't make 'em like this any place but NYC and Danny's never been more fucking grateful that he lives in this city than when he's got Don just like this. Dark chocolate hair disheveled, hanging down in front of his face. Pupils blown wide, black nearly eclipsing those brilliant winter eyes. Lips glistening with their mingled saliva and just a bit swollen from shared kisses. Don's shoved up against the wall and Danny's just looking at him, moving close and then drawing away.  
"Look at you," Danny says, eyes dragging up and down Don's body, a gaze so openly hungry he feels it like a touch and Don can't help the gasp that escapes his parted lips. Don suspects he's simply going to be bowing to Danny's whims tonight, but he's good with that. He groans as Danny tugs open his pants and slips his hand inside, gun calloused fingers wrapping around his cock. Oh, yeah...really good...with that. Danny leans forward, flicks his tongue along the edges of Don's mouth, moving away when the detective tries for a kiss. Danny murmurs something in Italian, working his fingers around the head of Don's arousal in this kind of rub and twist motion that he swears is making his heart stutter its beat. Danny's in his space again, pushing Don into the wall so tight he can feel the butt of his gun scrape the plaster. He realizes belatedly that he should probably remove it, but his hands are tangled in Danny's jacket and not much more matters than the lean body of the crime scene investigator in his arms. All muscle and heat.  
Just like that, Danny's sliding down to his knees. He holds Don's eyes as he presses his lips to the head of his cock, not exactly sealing in a kiss, but rubbing and nudging lightly. Don's mouth is slack as he watches. Danny's lips, slick and shiny, pull into a smirk. He presses one hand over Don's stomach, feeling his heavy breath through his shirt. His lips part and he takes just the head into his mouth. Don can't keep his eyes open after that. His head drops back against the wall with a thump and he screws his eyes shut. Feels good. Better than good. Danny's sucking softly like working a piece of hard candy. His hands sink into Danny's hair.  
"Danny..." he groans. He's doing that thing with his tongue again, the flickery thing that makes Don's legs turn to rubber and his hands clench reflexively in the sandy colored locks of Danny's hair. "Oh, God, Danny..." And then Danny shifts and takes him in all the way, to the hilt. Don can't draw breath. Not anymore. And, shit, but Danny's gotta have no gag reflex at all, because he does this every time. And it's incredible. He knows the moment when he hits the back of Danny's throat. And Danny doesn't draw back, doesn't let Don go when he tries to draw back. Danny's hands move to grip his hips, thumbs just dipping into hollows of his hips. He can feel Danny's throat rippling around him and he gives up and begins to thrust. Danny's hold loosens a fraction as he lets Don set the pace. He can't form coherent thought anymore. It's gone, all pooled right here, in Danny's mouth. The molten heat around his cock, the tendrils of hair curling around his fingers like they mean to hold him there. The press of Danny's tongue along the underside. Danny's got this incredible sensory memory. He can remember everything he does or tries that brings forth the most powerful reaction from Don and he combines them to create the most mid-blowing...whatever. Hand-job, blow-job, fuck. Whatever it is Danny does to him, Don's always in overdrive before it's over. Thirty-four years old and he's never had sex this good. Danny adds teeth, just a little, but every time Don pulls out, the edge of Danny's teeth catch of the head of his cock and sends a hard jolt through him. He's getting close when Danny suddenly digs his fingers into his hips and holds Don steady. The increase of suction makes Don growl and his body jerk and then Danny hums. It's so loud, he can hear it and that is it. He can't stop, he just comes, spilling deep inside Danny's mouth.  
Don sinks to his knees even as Danny straightens up, working his jaw. The sea bitter taste of the man still coats his mouth. He swears he can taste a touch of whiskey in it. Must be an Irish thing, Danny thinks. Don exhales, head dropping back against the wall. His hair, now damp with sweat is stuck to his forehead.  
"How are you doin' there, buddy?" he asks. His voice is raw and scrapped and damn if that isn't incredibly sexy. Don looks up dazedly, pale cheeks flushed bright pink.  
"Freakin, fantastic," he murmurs, words heavily slurred. He reaches out blindly and hooks Danny's pant leg, drawing him close. Danny lets himself stumble into Don, slides his fingers into the lush brown hair. Don rubs his face against Danny's upper thigh.  
"So good..." he says. “Damn, Messar, you're so good." He presses his face into the apex of Danny's thighs, mouths the straining arousal through the fabric of his pants. Danny lets his head fall back and closes his eyes. Don's breath comes in hot puffs. He reaches for the waistband of Danny's pants.  
"Hey." Don looks up and Danny shakes his head. "No."  
"You don't want me to...?" Don asks, confused. Danny smiles and shakes his head again. His hands fist in Don's jacket, the soft supple leather that is like a second skin.  
"C'mon, Blue, get up."  
"Danny..." Don lets himself be pulled to his feet. Still shaky, he stumbles into Danny. The younger man's hands bunch in his shirt, tugging it out of his pants.  
"Wanna get you horizontal," he murmurs. His hands are on Don's jacket, stripping it over his shoulders. He tosses it in the general direction of the living room and in any other situation Don might have been horrified. His favorite jacket, after all.  
"That your way of askin' to fuck me?" Don asks as Danny noses his jaw.  
"Who said anything about askin'?" Danny says with a cheeky grin, as he more or less drags Don toward the bedroom.  
"Oh, it's like that, huh? Think you can take me, ya little lab rat?"  
"Hey! Bite yer tongue." Don turns his head against the rough little slap to the cheek he receives, even as Danny hauls him around and walks him backwards and...hey, wasn't Danny supposed to be the drunk one? Better question. Does Don care? Danny flicks his tongue against his lips and, nope, he doesn't really care. Danny unclips Don's gun, placing it on the bookshelf as they move past it, tucking it behind a copy of 'Forensic Anthropology and the City: the Use of Carbon Dating and Fragment Bone Re-Construction in Urban Crime Scene Investigation'. Danny leaves as many textbooks in Don's apartment as he does clothes.  
"Tell yer what, you take me down, you can have me any way you want me," Don says. Danny pauses, seeming to ponder this for a moment. The next thing Don knows he's being shoved back. He lands on the bed and before he even has time to register the fact, he's pinned. Danny's hands have got his wrists and Danny's weight is there, holding him to the bed and his hips are grinding into Don's and fuck if the fabric doesn't have a combination pain/pleasure thing going on against his oversensitive cock.  
"Wanted to play like that, yer probably should have tried before you came. You always did turn all to jelly after a good fuck."  
"You ain't fucked me yet," Don growls, lifting his head enough to nip at Danny's nose. His feels the younger man's fingers tighten slightly on his wrists and then Danny's shoving his hips down, a slow filthy rough slide that makes Don muffle a groan behind his teeth.  
"Shit, Messer..." He arches his hips, trying to take some pressure off, but Danny's not giving him any quarter.  
"So?" Don opens his eyes and Danny's looking down at him. Danny's got the most expressive eyes Don's ever seen. He's like a damn puppy dog, just sweetness and warmth in that expression, the one Danny always looks at him with. And there's a question, uncertainty. Even after five years, he's still not sure. Not sure if Don would give him this. What Danny don't seem to realize is Don would give him whatever he asked for. His body, his soul. If Danny wanted his heart, Don would gladly reach inside his own chest and pull it out, beating and bloody. Cause Danny's his partner and there's nobody else he trusts to get his back.  
"You gotta ask, Dan?" he murmurs. A smile tugs at the corners of Danny's mouth. He bows his head and takes Don's lips in a slow, leisurely kiss and oh, man, he can taste himself still in Danny's mouth. And Danny's pushing his tongue inside, feeding him that taste. Danny's got the buttons of Don's shirt open and he's parting the fabric. Don manages to wriggle out of it without needing to sit up. He balls it up and tosses it toward the chair by the window. Danny stands up, balancing precariously on the mattress as he pulls his shirt over his head and drops it and then unbuttons and unzips his pants. Don reaches up to tug them down, nearly pulling Danny down in the process. The younger man gently shakes him loose and grins down at him. He raises an eyebrow, catching his bottom lip between white teeth. His hands rest on the waistband of his pants and they are pushed low enough to reveal a peak of dark brown pubic curls and a delectable white curve of hip, but there he pauses. Just standing over Don.  
"How bad do yer want it?" he asks.  
"Bad enough that I'll come up there and get it myself," Don retorts. Danny laughs.  
"Better watch it, Blue. I already called this one," he says with that fucking arrogant Messer smirk. He pushes down his pants and boxers in one motion, kicking them off. They land with a muffled thump somewhere beside the nightstand. Danny slides his hands over his head, hooking them behind his head. He's skinner than Don, but built. All wiry muscle beneath pale skin. He's incredible. Much as he calls Don good looking all the time, Danny's...fucking gorgeous. Long, muscular arms, flat, lightly ridged stomach, tapered waist, this perfect cock that's hard now, curving up toward his belly, and these legs that go on forever.  
"Come down here, Dan," he half-pleads, reaching a hand out to the younger man. Danny folds gracefully down. He arches alittle as he settles, the feeling of the rough worn denim against his bare skin rousing a shiver. Don's hands reach out automatically, settling on Danny's lean thighs as the younger man settles on top of him. He only gets a second to touch, because Danny's got him on his back again, pushing him into the pillows. Danny hovers above him a moment and the kiss is teasing and gentle.  
"Look at ya," Danny breathes softly, before drawing back. His hands...there should be laws against Danny's hands. Danny's the only lover Don's ever had from the force. Before Danny, it was women and they were Jersey girls and debutantes. There had been a stripper back in college, but that was it. And their hands were soft, delicate. Not a one of them was really used to harder labor. It was only after he and Danny got together that he realized how fucking good gun calluses feel on bare skin. His muscles tense and jump as Danny's fingers slide slow up his torso. His thumbs stoke over Don's nipples and his head falls back against the pillows at the sensation. Danny knows what he likes. He circles the delicate skin around the peak and it's always felt like his nipples were just connected to his cock, because even as Danny teases them, he can feel his cock give a wanting twitch. But he ain't twenty anymore and it's going to take a little bit of time. May not matter. Danny's probably not looking for him to get hard again. It's gonna feel...he doesn't know how it's gonna feel. He's never gotten fucked after he came. Shit, if he's sensitive now... Danny's lips are brushing back and forth across his sternum, tongue tracing over the jagged lines of upraised flesh, the patchwork of scars left behind from the blast that had nearly claimed his life three years ago. Danny can focus on these for hours and it's not so much that he has a hard-on for them as this is his way of creating a kind of subconscious talisman. It's never been easy figuring out what goes on in Danny's head, but he has this theory maybe the younger man hopes that maybe one day he can just make them disappear. That if he loves enough, it will erase history. It can't though and Don's made peace with his near-death. Danny hasn't and probably never will, so Don just does what he can to reassure him. He cards his fingers through Danny's hair, strokes the back of his neck.  
"Hey, Dan. I'm right here. Right here." Danny raises his head, looking feral, with his tongue out, bare centimetres from the detective's skin, gray eyes glinting in the sticky light spilling in from the street lights outside. Danny lowers his head then and bites down, that spot right above Don's navel and he arches, hissing.  
"Fuck!" Danny's moving back then, tugging at the Don's jeans. He raises his hips, the only aid he can really offer in his state. Danny makes quick work of the jeans, sliding them down Don's long legs. He presses a soft kiss to Don's knee before he settles back between his legs, dragging his tongue from the red rise of skin where he bit just moments ago, to the center of Don's chest, a hot wet strip that ends just above his heart. Danny hovers over that spot for a moment, petting the skin with his forefinger as if he can see it, see the red pulsing organ that delivers the life blood into Don's body. Don brushes his thumb gently over the rise of one high cheekbone. Danny's skin is paler than his own. For all his posturing, that bullshit Italian charm and bravado, there is something so fragile about him. Danny feels things more acutely than most people, and his empathy can overwhelm him sometimes, make him take on much more than he should. Danny's heart is everything.  
"I love you," Don says and he knows this could easily break the mood, but he can't help it. He's never been that good about keeping his trap shut and...it's just...it's Danny, isn't it? Danny raises his head, something flickering in his eyes and then he turns his head, catching Don's finger between his teeth and licking his tongue across the pad. It's unspoken and Don smiles. It's 'I love you and I want to fuck you', all rolled up in that one little gesture. And then Danny's hot little mouth closes on the defenseless bud of his left nipple and Don's thoughts go for a six. Danny's other hand ventures down, fingers stroking along Don's inner thigh. Don's body is seriously starting to go into overdrive. Because it is a little too much and Danny's not just teasing, he's raising a bruise around Don's nipple and shit, his mind races, trying to remember if he's got another physical or a UC op or some other thing that might require him to flash some skin. This would be either really awkward to explain or give him bragging rights...Oh, damn. He groans as Danny's teeth close on the abused peak and he bites down just hard enough to make a jolt of pain flash across the surface of the pleasure. Don arches and his hands move to grip Danny's hair. He's moving down now, nipping at the tender skin of the aureole and really, Don doesn't know whether to push him away or push his head down. Doesn't matter because just as abruptly, Danny's moving away. Danny reaches across the bed, toward the nightstand. For the lubricant, Don realizes, even as dazed as he is. He's still not fully hard, but his cock aches all the same. Danny rubs warm circles on his stomach as he flips open the bottle with his thumb and tips it just enough to cover his fingers. A few drops hit the bedspread before he can cap it. Don bends his knee and pushes himself up a little. That doesn't seem to satisfy Danny, as the younger man spreads his thighs open wider. The position is vulnerable, leaving him open, and exposed to Danny's gaze. He tries not to feel uncomfortable with it, but it's been awhile since he's been on this end of it and Don's never really been good with letting somebody else dictate terms to him. Danny's hands slid up and down his thighs, eyes moving over Don's body with this kind of reverence that he doesn't know what to do with.  
"Yer so beautiful, Donnie. Wish you could see what I see," Danny murmurs, sounding like he's in a trance. Don can't help the stuttered chuckle at that. Cause he's never really seen himself as beautiful. Handsome, sure. He's not ignorant. He knows he's not bad looking, but there's just something about the way Danny says that. 'Yer beautiful', like he really means it. He's distracted from this line of thinking real quick though, because the slick fingers moving along the cleft of his ass make him gasp.  
"S'kay, baby..." Danny kisses his knee. "You ready for this?" Don nods and it's a little uneven. He's actually not real sure if he's ready. He's not used to giving up control. Even to Danny. Danny's always been better at separating from the job, or maybe this is how Danny deals. Deals with all the sick, twisted shit they see all day. By letting the feel of Don's hands and body push aside the images of dead bodies and silence the voices of those left behind. Even if it's just for a little while. Here, he is Don, not Flack. Danny stops being the job the moment his lips touch Don's. But, it's never been that easy for Don to check the detective at the door. It's still instinct to fight against vulnerability; even at the hands of someone he trusts explicitly. He sucks in a harsh breath as Danny's finger slides inside him. It's not rough, but it's not gentle either. Danny's rubbing his cheek against Don's leg, against the grain of the thin wiry black hairs. His goatee is coarse against the skin. The finger inside him is joined by another and Don shifts his hips as if this might make it more comfortable for him. It's already a faint burn as Danny scissors his fingers, stretching the muscle around it.  
"You still with me, Blue?" Danny asks. Don nods.  
"Been awhile," he admits.  
"I'll go slow."  
"Don't gotta," Don breathes, sucking in a breath as Danny's fingers stroke along the inner muscle sending a little ripple of pleasure through him. Danny leans forward to kiss him and the fingers inside him push deeper. Don groans into his mouth. The position traps Danny's hand between their bodies and makes it that much tighter. Danny's doing that thing with his tongue that's meant to distract and soothe, the thing where he twists his tongue around Don's and sucks it into his mouth. It's kind of demanding and messy and robs him of breath. It is distracting, but not enough for him to ignore the third finger squeezing in alongside the other two. Don rips his mouth from Danny and drops his head back onto the pillow, groaning loudly. Danny kisses his throat, nips at his Adam's apple and crooks his fingers. Right fucking THERE. And Don's entire body spasms and falls into shudders. Intense sparks of pleasure spreading like a burn through his body, consuming him from within. He can't catch his breath because Danny's rubbing that little place inside him, over and over, keeping him trembling. His muscles won't heed any order his brain gives. His body is arched, bowstring tight. Danny knows the exact amount of pressure required to pull that helpless keening moan out of him, the one that embarrasses Don and turns Danny on like mad. He shuts his eyes tight against the intensity that brings the sting of tears behind his eyes. He can't...he wants to tell Danny to stop because it is too much. There's a cramp in the pit of his stomach because his body wants to come from this, but it can't. He's overwhelmed and he can't...he can't...  
"Da...Dan...En...E...enough," he gasps. "Stop." The moment Danny's fingers slip out of him, Don's body hits the mattress like a weight, making the entire frame shake. He rubs a hand over his face. When he opens his eyes, two tears make their escape slipping down the corner of his face to disappear into his hair. Danny smiles and kisses him.  
"Beautiful." He bites Don's lower lip. "Roll over for me, Blue." Don moves, muscles still a bit sluggish and takes up the unconsciously submissive position. Hands and knees, legs apart, bracing himself on the bed. Danny's breath catches at the sight. It's been a long time since he's had Don like this. The sex had always been a bit more rough-and-tumble before the explosion. Even after all that physical therapy, Don still had a few kinks in his back and stomach that could become exacerbated if they weren't careful. Don's mostly back to normal now, so Danny lets him set his own limits. This is a gift. He is offering himself to Danny. Danny moves into position behind Don. He rubs a hand over the curve one of small, firm buttock. Don's body has always been a thing of beauty. The calisthenics of being a street cop are enough to keep him good shape, but it is his affinity for weights, basketball and hockey that have created the hard curves and ridges and ropes of muscle that string together to create the structure of his body. Danny gropes Don roughly and smiles at the shudder that passes through the detective.  
"Donnie..." he murmurs. Don exhales a breath as he feels Danny's thumbs slide along the cleft of his ass, stroking the cheeks and then gently drawing them apart. Danny bows his head to kiss the base of Don's spine, just above his buttocks. He murmurs in Italian against the hot, slick skin and then slides forward. Don's panting, breath coming short and fast as Danny presses in and is met with resistance. Danny represses a groan at the feel. It's been long enough that he nearly forgot how unbearably tight Don's body is, even after he is stretched and slick. Danny doesn't say anything, just presses little kisses to his shoulder, the back of his neck. He shifts his weight and pushes in a little more. When Don gasps--not from pleasure--Danny finds a white-knuckled hand and slips his own hand into it, intertwining their fingers and anchoring Don's hand to the bed. Don imagines this split in his skin, this rend where he's just coming apart. His fingers tighten around Danny's. And Danny holds his position, doesn't move.  
There's this perfect bead of sweat glistening on Don's flushed skin. Danny finds himself entranced by the way the light catches on it. Beneath him, Don shifts slightly and groans as he feels Danny slide in a little more. Fuck, he doesn't remember ever being this full. Danny's fucked him before, but it just...maybe cause he's just come. Danny feels impossibly huge and Don's body feels stretched well beyond its limits. But it feels good too. Beyond good. Danny's always the one taking care of him. Always so careful with him. Some days, Don appreciates it. Some days when he's hands ache from hours spent at the gun range, when his back is knotted up from taking down a suspect who just had to run, he doesn't want to play rough when he gets home. Today though, he's all about hard and fast. Danny lowers his head and licks up the dewy drop of sweat before it can roll down. He nuzzles into the sweat slick hair at the base of Don's skull. The muscles in his arms are beginning to tremble with the effort to remain still, not just sink down into the heat of Don's body. Don's always been a ‘rip the band-aid off' kind of guy and he doesn't know that Danny going slow is really helping. He's so fucking still and he knows it's cause Danny's trying to be careful, but Don's never been the patient kind. He mewls, lowering his head. Danny huffs out a breath against his skin and whispers,  
"Donnie?"  
"Danny..." Don rasps. Danny can feel the tension in Don's side. The muscles around his cock are rippling, pulsing and so tight it almost hurts and he knows this must be hurting Don. "Just move, damn it!"  
"Don't wanna hurt you," he says.  
"Not gonna. C'mon, Dan!" He arches his back and pushes back, exhaling into the sharp flush of fire that races up the length of his spine and spits out across his nerve endings as the abrupt action causes Danny's hands to slip and his weight to fall forward, driving himself deep into Don's body. Danny groans helplessly, feeling Don's inner muscles spasm and clamp down hard on his cock. He buries his face into the back of Don's shoulder.  
"Yer, idiot. You stupid sonvabitch..." he groans against the burning, wet skin.  
"Oh, ya say the sweetest things," Don manages, willing his body to relax, to remember Danny, remember how fucking good it feels to have him just like this. Danny huffs a laugh.  
"You ok?"  
"Haven't broken me yet," he mutters. "You can move." In truth it still feels like a slow burn, but he knows well enough that that will pass.  
"Yer still hurting. Fuck, Donnie, I can feel you hurting." Because he can, he can feel the tension in Don's shoulders, the muscle hard and taut beneath the skin, the way that Don's body is rippling and shuddering around him. Don already knows he's going to feeling this tomorrow. Tomorrow when he's on the street, when he's working a crime scene and he hopes to hell it's not with Danny, cause the guy's got a little bit a possessive streak, if not a bit of a kinky one. While Don will lie to everybody else about why he's walkin' funny ("Throw down at a basketball game." "Slammed by the opposing team's center during another NYPD vs NYFD practice hockey game. Fell while pursuing a suspect."), Danny will know the truth. And Don knows that all it takes is Danny to flash that wolfish grin at him, and he'll end up distracted as hell and walking funny for whole other reason. That's what he wants. Wants to feel this ache, wants the knowledge of Danny imprinted on his skin, he wants to look at Danny and watch the heat rise in those eyes.  
"Danny, not gonna break, man...Oh, God…" He whimpers as Danny slides out part way and pushes back in. "Yeah..." Danny begins just like this, drawing out and pushing back in. Deeper each time. And it's a slow build. Don rocks back into the thrusts, lowering his head and panting out his breaths. Danny's hand slips out of his to card through his dark, sweat-damp hair, pushing his head lower, only to pull it up again.  
"Fucking beautiful," he repeats. Don does look incredible like this. All the more so, because outside of this bedroom, this apartment, he is the tough as nails, fierce fighting Irish, street cop. This, no one but Danny will ever see. Danny drives in deep and he knows he's got the right angle when Don's body jerks and he doesn't have time to muffle the helpless yell behind his teeth. Don's breath comes in a series of gasps and hitches that sound almost like he's hyperventilating. He rocks his hips back into Danny's, wanting. He feels the younger man's long fingers tighten in his hair, pull just enough to make him feel the pressure in his scalp. It's brief and then his hand is sliding down Donnie's neck, to his back, fingers stroking over another scar left behind. He bows to kiss it and runs his tongue along the edge. He draws back to rub the palm of his hand over the back of Don's neck, his shoulders. Damn, there are no words. Don's so tight around him and Danny can feel his balls drawing up. He's so close to coming. He wants Don to come again. He doesn't know if it's possible, but he's going to try. Don's body so tight, clinging every time that Danny draws out, like it wants to keep him there. And Danny could stay, just like this, world be damned. He flexes his fingers, remembering the heat and pulse of those muscles as they felt when he stretched Don out.  
"Beautiful," Danny repeats. "So beautiful, Donnie." He slides his hand down over Don's quivering side, stroking the sharp curve of his hip, then dipping around to palm the rough curls at the base of his cock. Don cries out as Danny's rough hand wraps around his cock, stroking it and he can't...he can't get come again, but his body's reaction would belie his brain's statement because his cock is starting to harden in Danny's hand. But it is too soon and there's this razor edge of sharp pain underlying the pleasure. Danny keeps moving, fast and deep, each thrust in touching off sparks. Just like his fingers had. He aches. His entire body aches and Danny surrounds him. The force of their coupling has the bed moving up against the wall and if it is making any noise, Don can't tell from the rushing of blood in his ears. Staving off his own orgasm is not easy, because Danny's been hard since they left the bar. But he wants Don to come again.  
Don's brain is scrambled, his body equally agonized, struggling to catch up. The cramp in his stomach almost feels like a blow. He can't....not again. It's too soon. There's no way. But Danny's fingers are working rough and quick and dirty, thumbnail scraping over the vein, fingers rubbing the head. Danny's not going to let up until Don comes. And when he does it is unexpected, spilling into Danny's hand. There's not much, but Don's body feels like a hollowed out shell, like there's nothing but this covering of skin left. Danny's hand moves to his hips and his fingers dig in tight. His thrusts lose their rhythm now. He's so close anyway and it doesn't matter. Don will be wearing bruises tomorrow where Danny's fingers have found purchase in the handle of his hips and where Danny's hips continually crash into his. Don pants, fingers digging into the mattress because he doesn't think he can handle anymore. Danny's still touching that place inside him. He can't hold himself up and his body is rebelling. It is really is too much. There's a weight on his chest and he can barely breathe. It might be possible to die of pleasure and Don's coming pretty damn close to black out when Danny's hips slam into his one more time and he freezes. He comes with his teeth embedded in Don's shoulder and a guttural groan muffled against his skin. Don shudders through it, feeling Danny's cock pulse and twitch inside him. Danny's weight sags across Don's back and he can't support them anymore. They drop together, shuddering, to the mattress and Don mewls as his cock comes into contact with the fabric of the bedspread. Danny rolls them onto their sides and he wraps a long, willowy arm around Don's chest as they both pant for breath. Don licks his upper lip as he gasps. The aftershocks of Danny's orgasm are evident in the faint twitches still passing through his cock and shivering through Don. Danny's careful not to move too much, knowing how entirely over- stimulated and hypersensitive Don's body must be. He kisses the back of his neck, nuzzles and kisses again. He inhales sharply. Loves the scent of Don's skin after they've fucked. His sweat and Don's, the scent of them together cleaving to the detective's skin. Danny wants this all time, wants it like a brand, wants everyone to know that this one, this one is claimed. This one is his.  
"Breathe out," he murmurs softly. Don takes a breath and it makes his chest burn like he's just run the entire length of Central Park. He breathes out, body relaxing and Danny draws out as gently as he can. Don still hisses at the loss, feeling at once bereft.  
"How you doing?" Danny asks quietly.  
"You really gotta ask?" Don murmurs and feels Danny's lips tug into a smile against his neck. He's feeling sleepy. Two orgasms and his body is boneless and sated. The scent and feel of Danny surrounds him, warm and secure and for now, just for now, everything is right. He hears Danny whisper,  
"Guess I took yer down, huh, Blue?" Don cracks open an eye.  
"Yeah. Don't let it go to yer head. I got ya number, Messar," Danny chuckles, his arm tightening around Don's chest. Just before sleep claims him, he hears,  
"We'll see about that." Don's lips pull into a smile. Yeah, that sounds like a challenge.

End


End file.
